


Fall On Me

by LoversAntiquities



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Model Castiel, Model Dean, Photography, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:45:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3766858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of all of the awkward situations in his life, lying on that bed in nothing but the finest lingerie money could buy was somewhere near the top of his list. On the upside, he was getting paid to lounge around in thigh highs and garters all day on some of the softest sheets he had ever had the chance to touch.</p><p>On the other, Dean had to share said sheets with the most attractive man to ever grace the face of the earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall On Me

Out of all of the awkward situations in his life, lying on that bed in nothing but the finest lingerie money could buy was somewhere near the top of his list. On the upside, he was getting paid to lounge around in thigh highs and garters all day on some of the softest sheets he had ever had the chance to touch.

On the other, Dean had to share said sheets with the most attractive man to ever grace the face of the earth. At least he was attractive to look at, stark naked and tan-skinned, with a runner’s physique and a cock that left his mouth watering at the sight. But that wasn't what this was about; this was fake. Absolutely, totally fake, save for the fact that his set partner – Castiel Milton, professional gay model – was busy getting himself hard at the edge of the bed while talking to the photographer, and Dean was sprawled out on the pillows, clothed in three-hundred dollars worth of panties and stockings.

Not that he hadn’t sat through his fair share of awkward photo shoots in the past; the only thing that kept him remotely comfortable was Castiel. Dean knew who he was, knew Castiel’s career down to the last webzine spread he was featured in, starring some up-and-coming twink that had looked a _bit_ too into his job. Castiel knew what was doing, knew how to make sure he was relaxed at all times, never outside of his comfort zone.

His own profession veered into somewhat different territory – lingerie modeling for online companies. He never showed his face and covered all of his tattoos with layers upon layers of makeup, making sure all identifying marks were hidden from camera; it worked, for the most part. No one knew his name, and for all _he_ knew, no one cared.

How he had gotten onto _this_ set, though, was still a mystery to him. Something about his agent wanting him to branch out into more professional circles, get to know other models outside of his clique, which hadn’t sounded like the worst idea in the world at the time. That ideology shattered the moment he stepped onto set that morning in some loft apartment in the middle of Glendale, greeted with coffee-fueled faces and one half-asleep Castiel, dressed in more clothes he had ever _seen_ him in, a simple t-shirt and jeans with socked feet, sleeping on the only bed in the bare-walled room, an arm over his face. Waking him had been a different matter entirely.

Still, they managed to restore Castiel to the land of the living without incident and Dean helped move the bed where it needed to be, in front of the row of windows on the east corner of the room, illuminated by the light of the rising sun over the California hills. He and Castiel hadn’t spoken a word to one another since his arrival, even after their shower and subsequent hair-and-makeup session. At least this time, they didn't even attempt to cover the ink on his arms and chest, or the band that wrapped twice around his right thigh, leaving him free to show off as much as he wanted, even the freckles that their photographer teased him about relentlessly.

Someone called from the corner of the room that they were ready, Dean’s stomach flipping at the mention. Castiel wasn't even fazed, simply scooting back on the white sheets once the photographer left his side and crawling over Dean, hands fisting the pillow at his head, lips dangerously close to his own. A bright flush ran up his chest and neck at the first touch of their skin together, Castiel’s hand tracing delicate lines over his chest, stroking over the piece there, a set of vine-draped wings expanding outward from a half full hourglass, the longest feathers tickling the edge of his shoulders. “You nervous?” Castiel asked with a smirk.

Dean couldn't tear himself away from Castiel’s eyes, lost in the sunlit blue that watched his own. “I—kinda, yeah,” he mumbled, barely audible. There was no use denying it, anyway. _This is fake_ , he reminded himself, even as he reached up to cup the hand splayed over his pec, Castiel’s thumb absently padding over his nipple. “You sure you’re allowed to be this close?”

Castiel smiled and dropped his head to Dean’s neck, leaving a light kiss there, full lips drawing out a shiver. “The only thing I’m not allowed to do is fuck you. I can touch you with my hands wherever I want, but not my mouth. You’re allowed to touch me back, but the rules are the same.”

Dean nodded, oddly breathless. Castiel kissed his neck again, this time with more intent, and Dean nearly let out a moan in reply. Where were the photographers, anyway? “So what we’re doing—.”

“Simulating sex. You seem to be doing well on your own.” To emphasize, Castiel palmed a hand up his cock, half hard in the lace, Dean throwing his head back at the first hint of friction, lip between his teeth. “You’re beautiful, Dean.”

He worked to steady his breathing before he spoke again; thankfully, Castiel redirected his attentions to Dean’s chest, leaving wet kisses along the feathers of his tattoo, centering himself at the hourglass and licking there, eyes never leaving his own. “Not so bad lookin’ yourself,” he murmured, grinning. He stroked a hand through the unkempt mess of his partner’s hair, Castiel purring at the touch. “So can I still talk to you? Or’s that gonna fuck up the pictures?”

Castiel chuckled low, crawling up Dean’s body again to pull him into a kiss, teasing his mouth open with just enough tongue to be interesting. “You can talk as much as you want. Maybe tell me about yourself?”

He still couldn't get over how _professional_ Castiel was about everything; genuine concern and concentration bled through his fingers with every touch as he pushed Dean into whatever position was required. On his back with Castiel mouthing at his neck, a leg hoisted up in the air with Castiel’s hand palming his straining cock, those stupidly pretty lips ghosting over the head of his erection peeking out from under the waistband of his panties – he was breathless by the halfway point, struggling to ignore the occasional flash of the camera or the click of the shutter.

If Castiel was good for anything, though, it was a distraction. “You’re doing well,” he whispered against Dean’s lips once he pushed him onto his stomach, one of Dean’s arms draped around his partners neck, kissing him while Castiel rutted his thick cock in slow thrusts against his lace-covered ass. “You’re ruining your panties.”

“Not m’fault.” Dean shoved his face partially into a pillow, Castiel running his hands down the planes of his back as he drew up, only to slip his fingers beneath his waistband and _pull_ , cock springing free and thumping against his garter, bare ass exposed to Castiel’s unwavering gaze. _This is fake_ , he chanted. _He doesn’t want you like this_. Castiel’s hands told a different story, smoothing down the meat of his ass in a taunting display before unhooking the suspenders connecting his garter to his stockings, sliding his panties free.

Castiel didn't speak until Dean rolled onto his back with his legs spread, Castiel draped over him again, a hand pinning his wrist to the bed, lips dangerously close to his ear, out of sight of the camera now focused on their lower halves, Castiel’s hips grinding against his own. “Want to fuck you,” he hissed, quiet, Dean letting out a harsh breath in reply. “You want that?”

Dean nodded, fighting back a whine. With his entire body he ached to flip Castiel over right there, fuck himself on his cock for _real_ instead of what they were pretending to do. Never before had he had to restrain himself before, letting himself be manhandled at will into positions, receiving no sort of reciprocation in return. “How long d’we have left?” he asked, digging his nails into Castiel’s shoulder as he spoke.

Castiel shuddered a breath into his ear and gripped his wrist tighter, answering, “Two more poses, then we’re done.” _Oh thank god_. That time, he actually _did_ whine when Castiel pulled away, sitting with his legs parted just enough, cock jutting up hard between them. _Right_ , riding was on the list. Dean caught the suppressed shudder his partner gave when he crawled up to straddle his waist, Castiel’s unhooking his garter belt and tossing it aside, Dean steadying himself with a hand to Castiel’s hip, the other clutching tight at his side. “You’re beautiful.”

“Back atcha,” Dean sneered. Part of him wondered if Castiel had ever lost control on set before, if he was normally as flushed and tense as he was there, hands pressing hard lines down his back, one coming to rest on his hip, the other at the back of his neck, drawing him into another kiss, this time heavier, more desperate. “Cas,” he panted when they broke apart, cupping Castiel’s face in his hands. “You—You do this with everyone?”

To his shock, Castiel shook his head, ducking to suck at his nipple. “Just you. _Only_ you.”

They finished the session with Castiel on his back, majority of those shots from the waist up, Dean struggling not to just rut down and come like that in front of two cameras and room of four men and one woman. Thankfully, one of the photographers called time just as his willpower almost failed him, a younger man – probably an intern – handing both of them a towel and waving them towards the shower with a shy smile.

That few foot walk to the bathroom was one of the hardest of his life, the entire time fighting off the urge to just _run_ past the cameras and other spare furniture into the room with Castiel at his heels. Instead they paced themselves, Castiel leading the way, a trembling hand turning the doorknob and allowing Dean inside first. He fully expected Castiel to just throw him against the shower wall and have his way with him the second the door closed, prep him just enough to shove in and have him choke on his dick. It had happened before, in a smaller shoot with a man that could never truly keep his hands to himself – and with the look Castiel gave him throughout the session? He wouldn't have put it past him.

A withheld sigh escaped the second Castiel touched his face, though, kissing him sweetly until the tension bled from his veins and he was gripping back, pulling Castiel in close, their erections pressed together. “I didn’t bring anything,” Dean said between kisses. “Didn’t really _expect_ this. You, uh—?”

“Shower,” was Castiel’s reply, voice tinged deep with lingering arousal. “I’ll fuck you later, if you want. Open you up until you’re begging for me, _aching_ for my cock. Would you like that?”

“Pretty sure ‘m achin’ for you _now_ ,” Dean whined. “C’mon, y’kinda leaked all over me.”

“And whose fault is that?” Castiel slapped his ass in passing, Dean jumping from the jolt but ultimately pulling his stockings off and following him into the stall, stepping under the warming spray. “You’re very handsome, I didn’t get a chance to mention it before,” Castiel told him, shoving him against the slick shower wall. “I could feel how much you wanted me. You were so close to breaking, weren’t you?”

“ _Fuck_ , Cas,” he panted, reaching for Castiel’s cock; Castiel slapped his hand away, pinning it at his side. “You’re gonna break me if y’keep that up. What’re you gonna do?”

Castiel _winked_ at him, a smirk up ticking his lips. “Fuck my mouth.”

He could do that – he could _totally_ do that. Castiel sank down to the tile floor without ceremony, settling himself between the spread of Dean’s legs, hands pressing him flush against the wall. “Don’t hold back.”

Dean let his head fall back, fisting his hands in Castiel’s hair. “Don’t think I could if I wanted.” Castiel looked up at him and palmed his hands across Dean’s hips, licking lightly at the slit of his cock, still thick and warm despite the interval, pressed firm against the plushness of his lips. Dean watched him take him down in one smooth stroke until he could feel Castiel swallow around him, his balls tightening in sympathy, body begging for release. “ _Fuck_ ,” he sighed, petting Castiel’s hair, “’M close already.”

Castiel pulled off just enough to speak, giving his cock a slow stroke before kissing the tip, lapping at the precum spilling over. “You’re so worked up. I’m surprised you didn’t come when we started the session.”

“Wanted to—!” Castiel cut him off and took him in again, wasting no time toying with the head of his cock, fisting whatever else he couldn't fit in his mouth. Dean pulled him closer, hips flexing to bury himself deeper, Castiel’s tongue tracing over the vein underneath until his mouth was stretched wide, nose nestled in the curls at the base of Dean’s dick, eyes watching him, smug. “’M— _fuck_ , _‘m close_ , Cas—.”

With a barely there smirk, Castiel palmed Dean’s balls in his hand, Dean finally managing to catch the hint. _Fuck my mouth_ , was the original command – and he did, starting with shallow thrusts, letting Castiel fall into the rhythm of it, Dean reveling in the feeling of such a willing mouth stretched around him, tongue tracing the underside with each pull, both moaning with the pace.

He should have been quiet, he knew – there were people outside in the other room probably waiting for them to come back, that _really_ didn’t need to hear him getting his rocks off in the middle of their bathroom. That didn't stop him from pulling Castiel closer, fucking his mouth in earnest, a mix of saliva and precum dripping from corner of his mouth, lips abused and flushed, eyes hazed.

He nearly came at the sight. “ _Fuck_ , ‘m comin’, Cas, _please_ —.”

Castiel pulled off with barely enough time to spare, Dean throwing his head back with eyes pinched shut as he striped Castiel’s mouth white, dripping off his lips and down his chin, hand still stroking him through his release. “Look at me,” was the next order; Dean opened his eyes to find Castiel standing, pulling him forward to kiss him again, stroking his own cock frantically between them. Dean knocked his hand away and took him in hand instead, reveling in the broken sounds Castiel moaned into his mouth, until he was coming in his hand, a few flecks reaching his softening cock, washing away in the spray.

They didn't speak until their breathing settled and the pitter patter of cooling water settled their erratic hearts, hands still clinging desperately to one another, trading lazy kisses until someone knocked on the door outside, asking if they were still _alive_. Had they been in there that long? “I—,” Dean started before ending up laughing into Castiel’s shoulder, Castiel right there along with him. “ _God_ , what’re we doin’ in here?”

“Well, I _was_ sucking you off, and now I’m hoping you’ll invite me back to your place?” Castiel kissed his cheek and pulled away, reaching back to shut the water off. “Or, at least let me get to know you outside of the set.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, ducking out of the shower after Castiel, taking his abandoned towel from the floor to dry off. Their clothing sat in separate piles on either side of the sink, probably damp from steam. “I’d—I’d like that, actually.” Dean stared at his bare toes, sheepish, drying his hair. “Haven’t cleaned in a while though, hope y’don’t mind.”

“I doubt it could be any worse than mine,” Castiel shrugged, reaching for his pants, no underwear in sight. “I’m having renovations done. My upstairs neighbor flooded her bathroom last week. It’s been… a mess, for a better use of words.”

 _That_ sucked. “Well, if you’re out on your ass, y’could stay with me for a while?” Castiel visibly brightened at that, smiling ever so slightly. “I may not be the best company, but I can make a burger that’ll knock your pants off.”

That time, Castiel actually _did_ smile; Dean flushed, tearing his eyes away. “I’d like that very much,” Castiel said, patting Dean’s shoulder as he passed, shirt still in hand and jeans slung low. “So, are you coming?”

He couldn't get to his pants fast enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know what happened here, but this is an AU I wanted to write for a while and finally sat down and did it this morning while I also worked on my DCBB and my new wingfic. AKA I have about three other school projects to do that I'm NOT doing and instead I'm writing porn. Enjoy~
> 
> Title is from the R.E.M. song. I don't know what else you expect of me anymore.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/loversantiquity).


End file.
